


tattooed

by aghamora



Series: Flaurel Ficlets [6]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4741445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aghamora/pseuds/aghamora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feel like she’s spent her whole life staring at the six words on her ankle, scrawled in that permanent marker of fate.</p>
<p> <i>Shouldn’t you be at that party?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	tattooed

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Flaurel Soulmate AU

It feel like she’s spent her whole life staring at the six words on her ankle, scrawled in that permanent marker of fate.

_Shouldn’t you be at that party_?

They aren’t easy to see; she has to make a conscious choice to read them, and every day, she does, be it in the morning when she steps out of the shower, or night before she slips into bed.

She wonders what they mean. Obsesses over it as a teenager. Spends hours dreaming what her soulmate will look like, and giggling about it with her friends.

On her first day of law school at Middleton, Laurel sits down in her Criminal Law 100 class, takes a look around the lecture hall, and smiles.

 

– 

 

He tries not to think about the words much anymore.

_Frank, hi. I’m in Keating’s class._

There’s not much of a point, he figures. He’s thirty-eight, still hasn’t met his soulmate. She’s a student – that’s all he can gather from the words written on his back.

And that is not the reason he sleeps with students. Definitely not.

He’s never lonely. He keeps himself in good company, screws his way around the student body. At first he’d kind of been looking, but he isn’t anymore. He hasn’t even had a steady girlfriend in years. No way in hell does he want a soulmate.

It’s the first day of the new school year. A fresh crop of pretty young girls, some of whom he’ll take to bed, some of whom he won’t. Most of whom are unremarkable, empty-headed goody-goodies who will end up dropping out before the year is through.

Frank frowns, and puts his car into park in front of the office.

 

–

 

It’s Frank who answers the door when she goes to the office after seeing Gina Sadowski and Mrs. Kauffman together.

“Frank, hi,” she greets. “I’m in Keating’s class.”

Frank blinks. Something flickers in his eyes at that. Then, he raises his chin.

“Shouldn’t you be at that party?”

Laurel freezes. Oh, God. Could he be…? Is  _he_ …?

No, she shakes the thought away as quickly as it comes. That can’t be right.

She doesn’t mention it, and by the end of their conversation, she’s glad she hadn’t. “You’re a misogynistic ass,” she tells him, meaning every word. He can’t be her  _soulmate_.

That’s ridiculous. 

 

–

 

Frank would be lying if he said those first words have nothing to do with why he picks her for the team.

_Frank, hi. I’m in Keating’s class._

She’s just like the rest of them. A sensitive, goody-two-shoes idealist, viewing the world through a fool’s rose-colored glasses.

She’s just like the rest of them, and then – “You’re a misogynistic ass.” Then, suddenly, she isn’t.  

 

–

 

She meets Kan. His words are tattooed on his wrist, and they don’t belong to her, but she doesn’t care. He’s nice, intelligent, everything she’s ever wanted in a boyfriend. Everything she’s ever wanted in a _soulmate._

Then, the night after the mistrial, she kisses Frank. She’s never been kissed like that, ever. His beard scratches at her face, and the smell of his cologne is almost overwhelming. It makes her weak in the knees.

Laurel almost mentions the words to him when she pulls away. They haven’t stopped ringing in her ears since that night. She almost asks, but instead-

“I have a boyfriend,” she says breathlessly, grabbing her purse and stalking away.

A boyfriend. Not a soulmate.

 

–

 

They fuck on the porch. As you do.

Months ago, the romantic in Laurel would have been appalled by the thought of that word.  _Fucking_  has never been in her vocabulary; it’s always  _having sex_ , or  _making love_. 

But that’s what it is, plain and simple: fucking. No tenderness or sweet nothings whispered in ears, just fumbling their way towards a quick come in the dark.

She goes home with him, after, and they go so many rounds that by the end she’s sore between her legs. She falls asleep in Frank’s arms, surprised by how good and pure it feels to be held by him – when he is not pure, or even good.  

She all but forgets about the words, and then, in the morning when she wakes up, she sees his for the first time.

Somehow, though they’d both been naked last night, she’d missed them, but now he’s lying on his stomach, facing away from her. They’re written on his lower back, and she has to squint to read them – but they’re there.

_Frank, hi. I’m in Keating’s class._

Her words. Her handwriting.

Somehow, deep down, from the first time she’d seen him, she had always known. But being so blatantly confronted by the words – by the fact that he’s her soulmate, oh God,  _Frank’s her soulmate_ … She panics.

Laurel shoots out of bed and grabs her clothes, so suddenly that it makes him stir.  

“Laurel?” he rasps, sitting up groggily. “What’s going on?”

She shakes her head and pulls on her skirt. “Nothing. I-I have to go.”

Laurel takes off toward the door. He follows her, and blocks her path before she can reach for the doorknob.

“Why’re you running? C’mon, I know the sex wasn’t that bad. Quite the contrary, actually.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she just gulps, and without a word, pulls up her tights to expose the tattoo on her ankle.

Frank freezes. They stand there for a moment in silence, just looking at each other, neither one sure what to say.

“Shit,” he curses, and yeah, Laurel can’t say that that’s a sentiment she disagrees with at this particular point in time.

“This… that was to be wrong, or something.”

“Wrong? That’s my handwriting. We’re…” he drifts off, frowning. “Fuck. We’re soulmates.”

“’Fuck, we’re soulmates?’” she echoes in disbelief. “That’s the kind of thing a girl always _dreams_ about hearing her soulmate say.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I-I don’t know!  _Nothing_!” Laurel hisses, and reaches past him for the door. “I don’t want to  _be_  your soulmate, okay?”

She leaves him with that. He doesn’t try to follow her.

 

–

 

Needless to say, Frank has not had a ton of monogamous relationships in his life.  

It’s not that he has a short attention span – although, well, maybe he does sometimes. But the notion of commitment as a whole scares the hell out of him, and there’s no commitment stronger than the bond between two soulmates.

It doesn’t always work, he knows. That bond of fate isn’t always enough, and commitment scares him, sure, but with Laurel… This feels different.

With Laurel, he wants to try.

He shows up at her door after work with red roses – cliché, but usually effective. When she opens the door, however, Laurel doesn’t look the least bit impressed.

“What, is this supposed to make me want to hop into bed with you again or something?”

“No,” he replies. “But I thought maybe it’d make you want to let me in.”

She sighs. “Even if we tried, this would never work. You’re… you, and I’m me. Maybe we’re just not compatible soulmates.”

“Can’t know for sure unless we try.”

“And you want to? Try?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes full of sincerity. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll work out.”

“And how does us  _working out_  end, exactly? With us getting married and living happily ever after?”

Frank chuckles. “Let’s start with dinner first. Tonight.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Now you coming or not? We’re gonna be late for our reservation.”

“For someone trying to woo his soulmate, you’re not being very gentlemanly.”

“I haven’t wooed you enough already?”

“No,” she says with a smile, grabbing her coat and following him out the door. “And if we’re going to try this soulmate thing from now on, you’re gonna have to do a little better than that.”


End file.
